A Love Rekindled
by littlelights
Summary: He wanted to take her away from Storybrooke, but fate had other plans. Takes place after episode 2x1. A Rumbelle fic.


A Love Rekindled

By littlelights

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Total supposition as to what could happen in OUAT Season 2. After watching the sneak peek for episode 4, I'm pretty pumped to see how Belle is adjusting to life in our world.

Standard disclaimer: I own nothing, and no infringement intended. This is just a writing exercise to take my mind off work and grad school. Please do not sue. I don't have any money anyway. Any writing job offers would be greatly appreciated.

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_Rumpelstiltskin: "So, what happens when you try and cross the boarder?"_

_Charming: "You loose your memory of everything of our old lives. Looks like we're stuck here."_

The orange line in the road taunted him; reminded him that even he had limitations here in this new world.

He didn't want to stay, to fall back into the routine of being one man in town everyone feared. It had served him well enough before the curse was broken. It was easier to be in control when he had control over so many aspects of a small town.

But that had changed. All of it. Poof! In the moment he turned around in his shop and saw her standing in a stolen coat and hospital shoes.

Belle. Beautiful, sweet Belle.

He didn't want to disappoint her again, which would inevitably happen if they stayed. She was content at the moment in his house, browsing his book collection, acquainting herself with the wonders of modern kitchen appliances, and tidying his house. She'd learned to use the electric kettle and toaster yesterday, and become engrossed with haveing toast and tea several times a day.

He'd showed her the huge claw foot tub in the bathroom, and gave her a robe from his closet. He'd swallowed hard when she'd emerged smiling an hour later, looking fresh, happy, and smelling faintly of roses.

As awkward as their situation was, she shared his bed the previous night. Granted, they'd done little more than sleep, but judging from her inviting glances and his reaction to them, a physical relationship was inevitable. Nearly three decades of guilt, anguish, and pining for his love had made parts of him, ready to act on those kisses and touches at a moment's notice.

He'd wanted to get away from Storybrooke for her. She'd always wanted to travel, see the world. In their previous life, she'd contented herself to being his housekeeper and confidant. But this world was different. He'd wanted to take her away to Boston and beyond, to break away from the people who knew them and simply live. They could find his son together.

He didn't want to disappoint her again, and the best way to do that, he reasoned, was to leave. He had the means and a few contacts who could procure any paperwork necessary for them to leave the country if they chose.

Gods above, they would have driven past the orange line and become two strangers. Even couldn't disprove his own immunity the consequences of leaving. He wouldn't leave Belle unprotected against Regina's meddling, nor would he do anything which would make her forget her memories again. Belle had lost 20 some-odd-years of her life to his bad handling of circumstances, and he was determined not to repeat the same mistakes.

The curse was broken, and with it, his ability to have the advantage of the situation. Keeping everyone in the dark had hadn't been a complete necessity, but it was certainly helpful in innumerable ways.

He relished his privacy, which is what his Dark Castle estate had so amply provided. He had the opportunity to move freely as it suited him, and conduct most of his business as he deemed fit. Storybrooke, with all its rural charms, did not offer that luxury.

Sooner or later, the days would settled back to some sort of status quo, which would inevitable bring both idiots and vendetta-prone fools to his shop and his home. Sooner or later, he would be forced to protect his interests. Sooner, rather than later, Belle would tire of keeping house and want to explore their little village. His dealings would not endear her to him, and if she'd discovered what he'd done to her father…well. Somehow she'd learn that he kept the truth about the enchanted forest from everyone.

And would she stay then?

In his heart, which was beating and ached from something other than loss and longing again, tutted, 'No, of course not.' He had no spell to bind her to him, or force her to stay in his home.

It was only a matter of time until he lost her again. And it would be worse, seeing her around the village, seeing her go about her life, being shut out completely. Watching that special brightness she held inside shine on everyone else but him. It was going to be a special kind of hell.

His knee was cramping, and the line wasn't moving. To stand around much longer was a futile exercise. An unconscious part of him was anxious to go back to his house, to find out how Belle was faring in her new home. The other half of him was angry; feeling thwarted that freedom was so close, but ultimately out of his grasp again. Freedom seemed as far away as the moon.

The man they called Mr. Gold, turned back to his Cadillac, and drove all the way back to his house in silence, still angry and feeling the pressure of inevitability on his mind. He would try, for Belle's sake, to limit his harsher tendencies. But he felt the old stirrings of magic in the air, the ones that cautioned him that danger was on its way, pregnant with the promise that all he had worked for could be ripped from him in an instant.

By the time he'd parked the car, opened the door, and saw Belle padding through the hallway barefoot and smiling, he'd pushed his anger to the side. Compartmentalizing those darker thoughts and enjoying a welcoming 'Hello' and embrace from his auburn-haired love. He kissed her, slowly and purposefully, allowing his actions to tell her what his words could not always accomplish. Maybe it was remembrance of their former rapport, because when their kiss had ended she looked at him with those brilliant blue eyes and asked, "Is everything alright?"

He could see his reflection in her eyes, and he was saddened to see he looked far older and careworn than he was.

One day, he would work up the courage to share more of himself with her, and feel comfortable laying his concerns out freely. But now was not that time, and judging from the wonderful smell wafting through the house, he could guess how she'd spent most of her day.

"There's been some trouble in town, Belle-of-mine," he said simply. "It might be better if we stayed inside for a few days." He stepped back and rubbed her arms affectionately. "What is that lovely smell?"

Belle gave him that look, the one that told him she knew he wasn't telling the whole truth, but that he would tell her eventually. He may harness some sort of magical powers on this world, but she could wield her own brand as well. To her credit, and his relief, she let the explanation slide, took his hand, and led him into the kitchen.

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Reviews are love and are much appreciated. As are mentions and fic recommendations.


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